Okay, okay, I don't normally spend my days when he's not home on the couch in front of a roaring fire popping bon bons, but, you know, I sometimes get the feeling my husband thinks I do. I'm a writer. What else can I be doing for long stretches of time while he's off working?
Other writers know what goes on in the daily life of a lonesome wordsmith - a lot of quiet time, a lot of typing, lively conversations with imaginary friends, and sometimes, when the typing isn't happening, small sacrifices to the muse.
But husbands? Spouses? Significant others?
It's a big black box, surrounded by bon bons and free time.
Which is why it has been so cool having my husband home this week. For the first time, he's gotten a chance to see what I really do all day.
Granted, my monosyllabic responses--"write"--to this question over the years haven't been helpful. I guess I needed to show, not tell.
This week I've shown.
And he's watched.
Even listened when I ask him if I can read something out loud.
It's been fun. So much fun that I'm really going to miss him next week. It's neat having a pair of eager ears. And a lunch buddy. A friend. My best friend.
It may not have been role reversal this week, but it has definitely added spark to our relationship. My husband "gets" what I do.
Priceless.
